


Distractions

by pasiphile



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Chastity Device, Dubious Consent, Gags, Humiliation, M/M, Vibrators, d/s dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasiphile/pseuds/pasiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for prompt: His master had got angry at Jim as he had touched himself without being allowed to, so he had locked him back into the unforgiving chastity belt. It wasn’t something he wasn’t used to, that happened quite often. However, his master had also stuffed his sluthole with a powerful vibrator, and had tied him to a chair so he wouldn’t move away. A large ball gag left him unable to protest much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

The concrete floor was cold underneath his arse. The light burned too brightly. His stomach was cramped up with anticipation.

And Moran was towering over him. Angry. No, not angry, just…  _displeased_. And Jim was going to suffer for it. He closed his eyes.

“Up,” Moran snapped.

Jim scrabbled up.

“Which part of  _don’t touch yourself_  was unclear to you?” Moran asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.

Jim stared at him, waiting it out. He hated the anticipation before even more than the acts themselves. The dreadful state of not knowing, his imagination running wild.

“Well? No excuses?”

He kept stubbornly silent. He could of course play submissive, lower his eyes and mumble an apology, but Moran knew him too well to fall for that.

“Fine.” Moran went to his knee in front of Jim and grabbed Jim’s cock. He gasped, even though he’d already seen the cock cage in Moran’s hand, even though he knew what was going to happen next.

He winced as the hard steel closed around his cock – steel, of course, nothing but the best for him. No matter how often this happened, he never  _quite_ grew used to it. But at least he wasn’t hard yet – nor likely to be any time soon, this whole little charade didn’t do much for him.

Moran gripped his upper arm and dragged him along to a chair. “Bend down, legs apart, hands on the chair.”

“Yes.”

Moran fisted his hair and pulled his head back painfully. “Yes  _who_?”

Jim closed his eyes. No locking this out, no matter how hard he tried. “Yes,  _master_ ,” he grinded out.

“Hey, maybe you will learn after all. Now,” he shoved Jim back, “ _down_.”

He bent forward, putting his hands flat on the chair, legs spread. Nothing happened. Anticipation again,  _damn_ Moran. He just knew too much about Jim.

Moran’s hand fell hard on Jim’s lower back. He jumped in surprise.

Moran chuckled. “Guilty conscience, eh?” His hand slid lower and his finger pushed in – no lube. Jim clenched reflexively.

“I could take you dry, you know,” Moran said conversationally. “You know how much that hurts? Feels like you’re being split in two.” He pushed his finger in further. Jim bit down on his tongue. “But we both know pain isn’t the thing for you, is it?”

He pulled out again. A second later he could hear the sound of a bottle being squirted, and then cold slippery fingers on his arse.

Moran might not be going for pain, but he still wasn’t exactly careful. Not that Jim minded – in fact, he could already feel his cock swelling up, coming up against the steel. Jim raised his arm, put his hand on the back of the chair instead, leaning forward and bit down on his wrist. Something to focus on, to make it more bearable.

But Moran immediately grabbed his arm and pulled it away from him, twisting it behind his back. Jim’s other arm started to shake, as it was suddenly difficult to find his balance and stay like this.

“Do you  _ever_  just fucking listen?” Moran asked. “Do as you’re told? No, don’t answer that, I know.”

Moran’s other hand grabbed his hip and he slowly pushed in. Jim struggled to keep quiet, but it wasn’t easy. Moran managed to hit that exact combination of pain and pleasure that always set him off.

He twisted Jim’s arm up even further, sending another shot of delicious  _pain_  down his nerves, and then he let go again. “Hand back on the chair, no moving.  _Now_ , Jim.”

He dropped his hand back and lowered his head, breathing out.

Moran fucked him hard and deep, just the way he had always liked it. It just made the first cycle start up, his cock trying to get hard only to be trapped by the cage and going down again when the discomfort became too much.

Moran had a point, of course. He could handle pain, easily, but this was something else. And Moran knew that, took advantage of it as much as he could. Even now he made sure he was hitting Jim’s prostate with each thrust, a tiny little jolt of pleasure along with the rest of it.

He came with a grunt, fingers digging in hard in Jim’s hips. Jim shuddered at the feeling of Moran’s come inside of him, a strangely invasive thing.

Moran pulled out as soon as he had finished, but before Jim could even catch a breath he could feel something else press inside of him.

He groaned, fingers curling against the seat of the chair. He tried to relax as best as he could, open up for the dildo. It was bigger than Moran’s cock, stretching him open even further.

“There,” Moran said when it was all the way in. Jim could feel the base of it rub against his arse cheeks.

“Up. Turn around.”

Jim straightened up again, wincing, and faced Moran. He felt a bit like a schoolboy being inspected, and Moran’s slight mocking smile didn’t really help that.

Moran tilted his chin up with two fingers. “Your glowering really is very impressive, you know,” he said drily. “But you know how this works, don’t you? It only makes wiping that look off your smug little face that more satisfying.”

“Presuming you can,” Jim said coolly.

“I can, I have, and I will,” Sebastian answered, completely undaunted.

Jim shivered again.

And Moran suddenly frowned. He dropped his hand and took a step backwards, away from Jim’s personal space. His eyes skipped over Jim’s face.

Jim tried to suppress his unease.

“Colour?” Moran said suddenly.

Jim almost rolled his eyes. On anyone else he would have suspected it to be a powerplay, a subtle reminder that he  _chose_ this. But it had been Moran’s idea, not Jim’s, to create this potential get-out-of-jail-free card. He always did need his little assurances to cling onto.

“Green,” he said, annoyed.

Moran gave him one last searching look, and then he turned to away to the closet where he kept his equipment. “Sit,” he said, pointing over his shoulder at one of the bondage chairs in the room. “And don’t wriggle.”

Jim sat down, wincing as the change in position made the plug shift inside him, rubbing against his prostate again. “So do I get a biscuit if I’m good?” Jim sneered.

“Shut it,” Moran said absently. He stuffed something in his jeans pocket and leaned down.

“Or a – “

Moran stood up. “I said – ” He turned and strode to Jim, put one hand on the armrest and the other around Jim’s throat, squeezing hard enough to make breathing difficult. “Shut.  _Up_.”  

Jim nodded, gasping for air.

Moran’s grip relaxed, but only a little. “You’ve already crossed the line once. Wanna see what happens when I get  _really_ pissed off?”

Jim shivered. Fear. Proper, real fear, the kind he rarely felt anymore, and it was entirely justified because Moran  _could_ do it, could – maybe not break him but at least come close enough to make things…  _unpleasant_.

“Thought not.” He let Jim got with a little shake and went down to his knee. He quickly, efficiently tied Jim down. Wrists and ankles, a strap across his thighs, and one over his stomach. Held down thoroughly, which meant Moran was anticipating squirming, struggling.

His stomach flipped again.

Moran finished up and swung up, straddling Jim’s lap. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Remote control,” he stated. “Just put in new batteries as well, so we’re going to be good for quite a while.”

Panic hit him hard, a dreadful all-encompassing cold wave of feeling. He pulled against his restraints, a futile instinctive attempt to get away.

“Shh,” Moran said, running his knuckles over Jim’s cheek. “’s a bit early to start struggling, you’re going to need that energy for later.”

He closed his hand around Jim’s throat again – always the throat, because Jim hated it, the primal crude dominance of it – and ran his thumb over Jim’s jugular. His other hand went down, fingertips stroking his balls.

“Got that? You’re going to thrash and scream and cry and I’m going to do absolutely fuck all to help you. Tell me why.”

He turned his head away but Moran took his jaw, forced him to look back. “Tell me _why_ ,” he said again, slow and clear.

Jim blinked twice. “Because I – ” He couldn’t. He  _couldn’t_  play along, he couldn’t bow down, he –

“ _Say it_.”

“Because I didn’t listen,” he spat. “Because I  _disobeyed you_. Happy now?”

“No, but I will be. Open up.”

“What?”

Moran slapped him hard across the cheek. “Mouth open. Much as I like hearing your protests, you’re going to be gagged now. Open up.”

Jim did, grudgingly, just a little. Moran grinned and kissed him, tongue probing his mouth. And then he pulled away again, leaving his taste behind on Jim’s tongue. A large ballgag was forced between his teeth. Moran fastened it behind his head, strands of his hair getting trapped in the band.

“Right. There you are.” He raised the remote control again, waving it in front of Jim’s nose. “Let’s  _play_ , shall we?”

He switched it all the way to the highest setting.

Jim couldn’t stop his shocked groan, or the way he pitched forward as far as his restraints would allow. It wouldn’t be enough, even without the chastity belt it wouldn’t have been enough, but it was too intense to ignore and he couldn’t, couldn’t  _focus_ , couldn’t  _deal_. He moaned again, dropping his head forwards. His cock was getting hard, which in a moment or two would mean  _pain_ again.

He almost looked forward to it, anything better than the buzzing inside of him, the worst kind of tease.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Moran said, with a sadistic tone to his voice that even Jim couldn’t have bettered.

He tried to look away but again Moran wouldn’t have any of it. His nails pressed into Jim’s cheeks, keeping his head still, eyes fixed on Jim’s face.

It was the eyes he had problems with. He was used to suffering, even if this – this  _particular kind_ of suffering was new and horrible in ways he’d never really considered. But he could bear it.

He just couldn’t stand being  _watched_.

And Moran was very good at watching. He would have preferred to been hit, to be tortured, anything but squirm with pain-pleasure, stripped bare by Seb’s rain-grey frigid eyes.

He pulled hard against his restraints. The pain of it was clear, simple, something far easier than the pain of that  _fucking_ chastity belt.

Bodies. That was what this all came down to, instincts and reactions and lust and he _hated_ this.

And needed this, of course.

He threw his head back against the back of the chair, his breath coming in short sharp burst. Control, just a bit, that was all he needed, but there was nothing he could do, nothing he could grab hold of.

He blinked rapidly, moaned as the pleasure crested, mixed with the pain and discomfort of the chastity belt.  _Please_ , he tried to say, but all that came out was a muffled groan.

“Are you begging?” Moran asked, still too close. His thumb stroked Jim’s jaw. “Already? You’re done for after, what, fifteen minutes?”

It couldn’t be. Could it? Was his sense of time going off? Or was Moran mind-fucking him?

Didn’t matter, didn’t care, all he wanted was a second of relief.

“Let’s give you a breather, yeah?” He slid the switch of the remote lower.

Jim let out a deep breath, still shaking, but at least it was bearable now.

Moran reached behind him, undoing the ballgag. Jim spat and ran his tongue over his dry, chapped lips.

“Enjoy it, it’s not going to last long,” Moran said drily.

Jim looked up slowly. “You – ”

“Watch your words, Jim. Like I said, you don’t want to piss me off.”

He bit his tongue in frustration, glaring at Moran.

“Say thank you.”

He couldn’t keep in his incredulous laugh at that, though. “For  _what_?”

“For letting you off easy.”

“Easy? This is  _easy_?”

“Yeah”, Moran said calmly. “It is. Think about that, will you?” He got off Jim’s lap and went to the side of the chair. “That is, if you’ve got any space left in your head to think,” he added, and he put the vibrator back on full force.

Jim’s scream was cut off halfway through by the ballgag shoved back between his teeth. He tried to struggle but Moran was too strong, knew too well what he was doing. He stopped behind Jim’s chair and leaned down, mouth close to Jim’s ear.

“You can struggle all you want,” he said companionably. “’Cause we’re going to be here for a  _long_ time yet.”

He sobbed. Moran ruffled his hair and stepped back again. “So let’s start again, shall we? From now on, you do  _exactly_ as I tell you…”


End file.
